Upside of the Downside
I won’t be here forever, at the bottom of a well,
Where it’s cold, dark, and hard to move around.
I’ve been here before.
And I might as well be grateful.
There are protective aspects to well-dwelling:
I’m not going to die of thirst.
I will not be blinded by light.
I will not get a sun burn.
I won’t jump off a cliff in a delirious happy dance and thus break all my bones.
I won’t smash my fingers with a hammer while trying to build a house.
There are skills to develop down here:
Drawing on the brick wall around me with mud.
Drumming on the nearby bucket attached to a rope.
Training a mouse to do tricks. (“Roll over. Good mouse!”)
Perfecting my singing. (Where better than surrounded by tall, echoic walls?)
I would like to be clear: Wells are not my favorite places to be.
I miss sunlight.
I value movement.
I like a separate place to put my waste, other than where I exist all day.
I want the warmth of the sun’s rays, and a human’s touch.
But this is a well. Cold. Isolating.
I don’t know how to get out right now.
But I know I will leave sometime.
I always do.